


Our Boy's Done Somethin' Rash

by Lucky107



Series: Pride and Disgrace [4]
Category: Fallout 2
Genre: Betrayal, Crime, Drugs, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Mischief, Partnership, Robbery, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: Myron swears up and down that he knows exactly what he's doing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin - 1959

Despite the flashy lights and well-dressed doormen that embellish the exterior of the Desperado, the old casino has a long-standing reputation for being something of a cesspit.  Aslaug and Myron can't get within a block of the place without drawing obscene cat calls and wolf whistles from the local prostitute ring, but Myron swears up and down that he knows exactly what he's doing.

After all, the Desperado is Mordino's hotbed.

If they want Jet - a large quantity of good quality Jet, not the cheap shit they push in Redding - then there's no better place to find it.  And with Myron's help, they can completely bypass the associated payments.

The floor is slick with years of spilt beverages that give each step an accompanying 'thck' and the walls are plain, cracked concrete.  It's the most unsightly structure Aslaug's ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on, but it doesn't matter: soon enough the sour smell of sex and cigarettes has completely drowned her senses.

Myron nods towards the bar with little subtlety, where a twitchy man is serving drinks to no one in particular at midday.  "Let me handle him."

Under ordinary circumstances Aslaug would have argued over this arrangement, but this is no ordinary circumstance.  If she tries something - anything - with anyone in the Desperado, their entire plan goes under.  So instead of an argument, she offers, "Go."

_Tick, tick, tick—_

Aslaug's the backup.

She watches as Myron makes his way to the counter, carefully avoiding tables with patrons and trying to stay out of trouble.  If something goes sideways between Myron and the bartender, if their plan is somehow exposed, then it's Aslaug's role to ensure no harm befalls him.

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick—_

A rhythmic sound from a nearby game table breaks through Aslaug's concentration and divides her attention from the bar.  Patrons and prostitutes alike surround the game like a cloud of flies and curiosity gets the better of her.

Seamlessly, Aslaug slips in among the other patrons and the croupier spins the wheel.  It goes a full turn before he casts a small, white ball into the wheel in the opposite direction and he lets it roll.  The blur of colours, the rhythmic 'tick, tick, tick', the excitable hum of strange voices - it leaves the young tribal hypnotized.

 _This_ , she realises, is why people come to New Reno.

 

Myron's as sly as a weasel and twice as wicked.

"Look, pal, old man Mordino has made it clear that I need to procure a substantial amount of Jet in a short amount of time and he doesn't care where it comes from."  He lies through his teeth, but Myron's leaning up against the bar as cool as you please and the bartender buys every word.  "This isn't elementary shit here.  Have you got something for me, or am I going to have to report your insubordination to Big Jesus himself?"

 _Insubordination._   The word echoes.  _This clown doesn't even know how to tie his shoes; he won't know what 'insubordination' means._

But the bartender - a pig-nosed junkie from the gutters of New Reno - fetches a briefcase from beneath the bar that he's got hidden away for _paying_ customers.  He slides it in Myron's direction and says, "Here.  It's all I've got."

Popping the latch, the kid's smart enough to examine the product.

Perfect.

There's more than enough Jet in here to keep Aslaug under control until they can reach Vault City - at least, Myron sure hopes there is - and so he locks the briefcase back up.  He parts without even a word of thanks, scanning the room for his 'partner'.

The adrenaline of his success begins to wind down as he cross the floor; the longer they stick around in New Reno, the more time they give for the news to reach Big Jesus.

When he pulls Aslaug from the Roulette table, he warns, "We need to get out of here.  Now."

\- - -

The escape is flawless - they're just like Bonnie and Clyde.

Myron works directly for Big Jesus Mordino, so no one even questions the contents of the briefcase as long as they can keep a cool head about it.  But in contrast to Aslaug's stoic demeanor, Myron's beginning to shake in the knees.

The more he contemplates the consequences of his actions - after all, he just stole a wealth of Jet from right under Mordino's nose - the more he begins to fidget and twitch.  Myron sure as hell doesn't want to _hang_ for trying to appease Aslaug's addiction, but he follows her well outside of the city limits without question.

"You better be damn sure you can get us inside Vault City," Myron complains loudly, just like a child.

Aslaug doesn't dignify him with a response, instead leading him far enough out into the desert that they can no longer see the lights of New Reno.  Only then does she stop to ask, "Which way is it?"

The fact of the matter is that Myron has just _robbed_ Big Jesus Mordino of Jet in order to satiate Aslaug's addiction for the duration of their trip - to chase an elusive cure _for_ said addiction - and she's more than content to act as if nothing's happened.  There will be a bounty on Myron's head, a bounty that will have all of New Reno out for blood, for Aslaug's damn addiction.

When he tries to confront her, to give her a piece of his mind, he's met with the same cold, unreadable stare that he's become familiar with.

"Vault City is north of here," Myron says, unable to compete with her stubbornness.

Daylight hours are dwindling, but they need to put some serious distance between themselves and New Reno if they hope to pull this off.  It won't be long before the news spreads of their crime, if it hasn't already given that twitchy fuck's skepticism back in the Desperado, and at that time Myron will be the subject of the largest witch hunt New Reno's ever seen.

Oh, the heat will simmer down with time - the longer Myron spends away from the Stables and the production of Jet, the more Big Jesus will realise just how much he needs his boy genius.

He'll have no choice but to take Myron back once they have a cure.

But these thoughts are broken up when Aslaug gives Myron's shoulder a rough smack, effectively waking him from his daydreams of self-satisfaction and glory.  She nods in the direction of Vault City and Myron has to scurry to keep up.

Only once a pleasant silence takes over does Aslaug offer, "You won't die."

Despite searching her stony face for the answer to her riddle, Myron comes up empty-handed.  No surprises there.  "How can you—"

"I won't _let_ you."

This assumption of assurance does little to calm Myron's frayed nerves, but between New Reno and Vault City, putting his faith in Aslaug's confidence is the only choice he has.  So, with nothing but the clothes on their backs, a couple of ration supplies and a briefcase full of Jet, they begin their trek north for Vault City.


End file.
